


I Ain't Afraid of No Ghost

by ScrivenerSavannah



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Gen, I have no memory of where this fic came from, In conversation with Wudd I assume, also hi hello I'm gonna maybe start posting in this fandom again I hope, have a halloween fic the day after because I cannot be on time to save my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27336850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrivenerSavannah/pseuds/ScrivenerSavannah
Summary: Four new friends decide to celebrate their recent meeting by doing some light breaking-and-entering at the local cemetery. They're looking for a ghost. They accidentally come out with the seeds for a YouTube channel.In which Gonff has done research, Rose brought the video camera, Martin's a little too comfortable with this, and Columbine wonders how a pre-med like her wound up stuck with two theater geeks and an enigma.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	I Ain't Afraid of No Ghost

The cemetery was on the western edge of town and looked not as a cemetery usually does, with neatly kept graves and graveled paths and mown lawns, but as a cemetery should. With the sun just below the horizon and night falling quickly, the overgrown graveyard with it’s off-kilter, lichen covered headstones and crumbling mausoleums looked like something right out of a horror movie. 

“Hollywood called, they want their set back,” Rose said. All four friends were leaning against the iron gates at the entrance, nerving themselves up to go in. 

  
“Oh, come on, this is B-list horror fodder at _best_ ,” Gonff countered. “More like _Haunted Mansion_ or _Hocus Pocus than_ —are you recording this?” 

“Yep,” Rose said. She turned her phone towards him, zoomed in and out on his face, and stuck out her tongue. “You know how big a wimp my brother is about the spooky stuff, so I was going to send it to him. Congratulations, he just found out you’re a massive Disney geek.”

“Everyone likes _Hocus Pocus_ —” 

“Are you seriously going to do this?” Columbine interrupted, and rolled her eyes when Rose turned the camera on her. 

“Scared?” 

She sighed. “Of getting arrested for trespassing? Yes.” She reached out and made a swipe for the camera, but Rose avoided the grab. “Especially if you’re going to be recording us breaking the law—Martin!” 

While they’d been talking, Martin had swung himself onto the top of the chest-high wall and sat straddling it with one leg to either side. “What?” he asked. “It’s not that high.” 

“That’s not really her point, mate,” Gonff said. What was chest high on Martin was shoulder high on Gonff, and between that and a bit of extra pudge, it was a bit more of an undignified scramble up. Martin snagged the back of his shirt and heaved when it looked like he wouldn’t quite make it. “Thanks. C’mon, Columbine, you’re up next.” 

She sighed again, but took both their hands and let them haul her up between them, with a neat little twist that left her sitting on the wall, feet on the outside. 

“Here, catch,” Rose said. She tossed her phone up to Martin and waved off their assistance, bracing her hands on the top of the wall and hopping up, accepting her phone back with a grin. The group paused again on the top of the wall. “So,” Rose said, dragging out the vowel and turning the camera on each of them. “What do you think we’re going to find?” 

“I was poking around in the library this afternoon,” Gonff volunteered, drumming his heels against the wall, “and turned up a couple of specifics. Apparently there was this chemist—and I use the term loosely, he wasn’t trained and it was the 1700s, I think—but when he died he said he’d be back.” 

“And was he?” 

“Well, he was exhumed at some point, and the body was unsettlingly preserved. Though I suppose saying the tomb was broken into would be more accurate; a curious medical student tried to cut off his head.” 

“And you say it’s the theater geeks who’re weird,” Rose said. “When has a theater geek ever tried to cut off someone’s head in the name of science?” 

Columbine just raised both eyebrows in Rose’s direction. “Really? We’re really going there?” 

“Okay, but when has a medical student willed their skull to a theater so it can be used in a production of _Hamlet_?” Martin asked, and ignored how all three just looked at him in bewilderment. “Go on, Gonff. The body was unusually preserved, the student tried to take its head.” 

“Which I contest, honestly,” Columbine interrupted. “You could get as good a sample without desecrating the corpse like that.” 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Gonff said. “As he was putting the head in the sack he’d brought with him, he heard whispers coming from the corners of the tomb.” He gestured, describing the scene with relish. “Whispers at the edges of reality, seeping through the cracks. When he turned around, there were shadows writhing and twining in the corners, reaching out as if they would pull him into the void itself.” 

There was a beat of silence. 

“And this tomb is in this graveyard?” Rose said, scanning the layout of the ground below them. 

“Yep. The student ran, of course, and left the head behind. It’s probably still there, kicked into a corner by a panicked foot.” 

Martin and Columbine exchanged skeptical looks. “Guilty conscience, obviously, and probably wind through the leaves,” Columbine said. “Look, there’s trees all along the wall, and there’s grass and stuff, too. When was this?” 

Gonff blew out an exasperated breath. “I don’t really remember, a few years after the guy died?” 

“So call it the 1810s at the latest,” Columbine said, crossing her arms. “Way before electricity was harnessed for things like flashlights. If he had a lantern or an oil lamp, those shadows were probably caused by the unsteady light source, and obviously an overactive imagination.” 

“Speaking of which, anyone else have a flashlight?” Martin asked. “First quarter moon won’t be up for another few hours.” 

There was another, longer silence. 

“We are really bad at this,” Gonff said finally. “Martin’s the only person who brought a flashlight? Seriously?” 

“I was just going to use my phone,” Rose said. “But that’s going to eat my battery, especially if I’m recording at the same time.” 

“Lesson learned. When poking around old graveyards after dark, everyone in the crew brings a flashlight,” Columbine said, shaking her head. 

“We’ll keep it mind for next time,” Rose decided, and hopped down into the graveyard without further commentary. “Come on, let’s go find this tomb. You remember which one it was, right, Gonff?” 

“Yeah, it’s in the north corner. I’ll lead the way.” 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Martin said as he helped Columbine down off the wall, “I swung by earlier today to talk to the groundskeeper. Ghost hunters aren’t new to him, and we’ve got permission. As long as we don’t break anything, leave trash around, make too much noise, etcetera, he’s fine with it, if a little resigned.” 

“I’m beginning to think you’ve done this before,” Columbine said, half joking, half accusing. 

Martin shook his head. “No, I just don’t see any reason to take unnecessary risks.” 

Gonff laughed from in front of them, and turned around to walk backwards and still face them. “Matey, I’ve known you for a week and I can already say with full confidence that that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.” 

“I did say _unnecessary_ risks,” Martin said with complete calm. “Besides, I haven’t been that reckless around any of you.” 

“Yes, because jumping two flights of concrete steps is perfectly reasonable,” Rose said, giving him a very disappointed look. 

“I was running late and took the landing on my shoulder like you’re supposed to.” 

The deeper the four friends passed into the graveyard, the older the headstones became. What names and dates had survived the years were obscured by green-gray or orange lichen. At the very back were a row of small marble buildings, some with long fractures in their walls, some with craggy domes, some in eerily perfect repair but with the iron grate hanging askew. The casual back and forth banter grew quieter as they approached, until at last the muffled sound of shoes upon gravel swallowed it up entirely. 

“That’s it,” Gonff whispered, nodding towards a mausoleum built into a low hill, the dark space where its door should have been framed by ivy and brambles. 

Rose took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Break my phone and I’ll curse you,” she said, and thrust it into Gonff’s hands. 

“Wait, what are you doing?”He fumbled it, checking the camera and keeping it trained on Rose. The image was becoming grainier as the light faded, but it was still enough to film, for now.

“I’m going inside,” Rose said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, no, not without me you’re not,” Gonff said, shoving the phone at Martin. “Here, you hold this.” 

“I’m pretty sure this violates the 'don’t break anything' request we got from the groundskeeper,” Columbine said, rubbing at her forehead. 

“Do you want to go in to explain every ‘experience’ they have, or shall I?” Martin asked. The video wouldn’t show the fond grin he wore, but it was clear enough in his voice as he trained the camera on Columbine, equally fond for all her exasperation. 

“You’ve got the flashlight,” Columbine pointed out, waving him on. “I’ll stand guard on the off chance someone comes to run us out.” 

“We can jump the wall and make for downtown if that happens,” Martin said. “Always have an exit strategy.” 

“You’ve _definitely_ done this before.” 

“No, that’s just general life advice.” 

They were interrupted by a low call from Gonff from inside the mausoleum. “Martin! Flashlight?!” 

Martin fished the penlight out of one pocket with one hand, keeping the camera steady on the door as he approached. He knocked on the jamb with it. “Hello? Sorry for the disturbance, but we were just hoping to look around for a little bit, if you don’t mind the company. We’ll leave you in peace again soon.” 

He flicked the light on, and startled back when it illuminated Rose, who was far closer than he’d expected. She also backed off with a pained protest. “Warn a girl before you do that, will you?” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Martin said, angling the light a bit lower. 

She rubbed at her eyes. “Were you talking to the ghost just now?” 

“Look, if there _is_ someone in here, just because he’s dead doesn’t mean we have to be rude,” Martin pointed out, following Rose into the crypt. “How’d you feel if someone came poking around your room without even apologizing for it?” 

“You don’t even believe in ghosts,” Gonff pointed out, squinting around. The three of them drew closer together—ghost or no, they were in a small space with a dead body after dark, circumstances creepy enough to raise the hair on the back of anyone’s neck. 

“I prefer to hedge my bets,” Martin said, sweeping the penlight slowly around. It was mostly empty, but for a few dead leaves in the corner and a low, rectangular construction in the middle of the room—the tomb itself. “I don’t see anything in here. Should we go a bit deeper?” They were huddled near the door, the blue-bright LED penlight aided by the distant starlight and the sickly yellow glow of a nearby streetlight. 

“Yeah, why not,” Gonff said. His voice was a bit higher than normal, but he slid one foot forward, then another. Rose trailed behind him, looking closely around the room. 

“Are you sure I shouldn’t go in front?” Martin asked.

“You’ve got the camera,” Rose said. 

“Right,” Martin muttered, not sounding too pleased with that. “Of course.”

“I’ll curse you, too, if you break my phone—” Rose started, only to cut herself off with a gasp. “Did you hear that?” 

“No?” 

Another long moment of tense silence, before all three heard a rustling sound from beyond the tomb. 

“I heard that,” Gonff said, this time with an almost manic sounding giggle. “It sounds like he doesn’t like curses. Maybe don’t talk about that right now?”

“Right,” Rose said. She swallowed. “Sorry.” 

“There’re a lot of dead leaves in here,” Martin said, directing the penlight towards the corners. “It was probably the wind, or an animal. Something like—huh.” 

The light illuminated a misshapen lump closer to the entrance, a bundle of something that looked like it might be cloth. The trio stared at it for a moment. 

“Do you think that’s the head?” Rose whispered. 

“It’s definitely something,” Gonff said. All three drew closer together until their shoulders were touching. 

“You know, I sort of thought the head would’ve been moved, or missing, or eaten by now,” Martin said. 

Gonff blanched. “Eaten?” 

“Well, yeah. Animals, scavengers, that sort of thing. What, did you think I meant cannibalism?” 

“No…” 

“Well, only one way to find out,” Rose said. She squared her shoulders. Each step forward echoed hollowly in the empty mausoleum, and when she spoke, both Gonff and Martin couldn’t quite suppress a jump. “Martin, will you stop moving the light around? I’m nervous enough as it is.” 

“I’m not moving the light, Rose. And my hands are steady, before you ask,” Martin protested, eyes on the video to make sure this was the case. 

Rose halted without turning around. When she spoke, her voice was forcibly calm. “If it’s not the light, what’s making the shadows move?” 

“Martin, are you getting that?”

“I’m recording the shadows acting like shadows, yes,” Martin said patiently. “They’re moving because you’re moving, Rose, and you’re between the light and the—oh,” he said, as the shadows trembled again and moved up the wall. 

There was a crash of stone on stone from behind them, loud in the sudden stillness. All three screamed, Gonff and Rose both latching onto Martin’s arms. Martin had dropped the penlight to free one hand, and the light swung wildly about the mausoleum, chasing spiky shadows and weird shapes up the walls. 

“I think we should get out of here,” Gonff said, already backing out and dragging Martin along with him. 

“Good idea,” Rose agreed, matching Gonff pace for pace. “Great time and all, really interesting, but we ought to, you know, go analyze the footage, see if we got an EVP—” 

“Not find out what that was?”

“A ghost angry about a joke about curses.” 

“Don’t joke about curses, I was cursed once and it offends me,” Gonff agreed with another high pitched giggle. 

“This is just for practice anyway, next time we’ll go investigate,” Rose said. 

There was another rustling, and the penlight caught the reflective gleam of eyes at the other end of the room. 

They broke and ran, bursting out of the mausoleum and almost bowling over Columbine. 

“What, what did you—”

“Eyes, dark, something—” 

“Just run!” Rose said, pushing the both of them ahead of her. 

“Over the wall?” Martin asked the group. 

“Yes, fine, just away!” 

This wall was conquered far more easily than the first, the fear adding extra speed to all four friends’s flight. 

“You really saw a ghost?” Columbine panted. 

“No,” Martin said, at the same time Gonff said “Yes!” 

“There were _eyes_ , mate, actual, glowing eyes!” Gonff continued. “And the shadows, you saw the shadows!” 

“I saw shadows move that weren’t caused by Rose,” Martin said. 

“And the crash? And the rustling?” 

“Coincidence. Dead leaves. There wasn’t a ghost in there.” 

They stopped a dozen blocks away, Rose clutching a stitch in her side, Gonff with his hands braced on his knees, gasping for breath. 

“Then what _was_ it?” Rose asked, leaning her head against the wall of the closed coffee shop. 

“I don’t know,” Martin said. He was breathing deeply, deliberately slowing his breathing back to normal. “But it _wasn’t_ a ghost.” 

“That’s… because… it was a fox,” Columbine said, also bent double and panting for breath. She waved her phone, which the other three only just noticed in her hand. “I saw it come out about two seconds before you did,” she said, straightening as her breath came back. “Snapped a few pictures. He’s a cutie, you probably scared him.” 

“ _We_ scared _him_?” Rose repeated, scandalized. 

“Oh, let me see,” Gonff said, leaning over her shoulder as she swiped through the handful of pictures. 

“Wait, let me get a shot of this,” Martin said, a grin beginning to steal over his face. He raised Rose’s phone again, getting a good angle on Columbine’s. “Aw, he is cute.” 

“What about the eyes—?” 

“Probably a family,” Columbine said. “I mean, that’d be a great place for a den, wouldn’t it? Sensible people don’t go in.” 

“Did I ever claim I was sensible?” Gonff asked her, turning to look at her indignantly with his chin still propped on her shoulder. “Did Rose? Did _Martin_?” 

Rose shook her head, beginning to laugh. “So our first ghost… was actually a family of foxes,” she said. 

“Apparently,” Gonff said. 

“Stepping through leaves, knocking something over, moving around so that there were shadows,” Martin listed. “And our imaginations did the rest.” 

Columbine shot them all a grin. “Good thing I didn’t come in with you guys, then, or I wouldn’t have evidence,” she said, waving her phone in Gonff’s face. 

“Well, you’ll have to figure out a way to get evidence from the inside next time,” Rose decided. She put out a hand and wiggled her fingers. Martin passed her the phone. 

“Next time?” Columbine repeated. 

“Absolutely,” Rose said, and panned the camera around the group. “After tonight, we’ve _got_ to find a real ghost. This is too embarrassing a note to leave on, don’t you think?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooooooo... 
> 
> Hi. I'm alive. I have not written for this fandom for a while, but this idea has been here since the last time I was more active (two+ years ago?). Considering I still have the whole outline and details for this AU/set up laid out and just need to write the thing, I'm hoping I can actually do that. 
> 
> Anyway, this is sort of a preview for a longer fic that's a bit plottier. Also, they're loosely supposed to be in Boston, MA, USA. I've got like, actual backstories and such laid out.


End file.
